I know places we can go
by liviafan1
Summary: Christmas AU set during Season 4. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_Season 4 Christmas AU. Takes place just after "Cuffed." One chapter a day until it's posted in its entirety._

 _Thank you for remaining a part of this wonderful fandom._

* * *

 _I know places we can go babe  
_ _I know places we can go babe  
_ _The high won't fade here babe  
_ _No, the high won't hurt here babe_

 _I know places we can go babe  
_ _I know places we can go babe  
_ _Where the highs won't bring you down babe  
_ _No, the highs won't hurt you there babe_

 _\- Lykke Li, "I Know Places"_

It's a quiet afternoon in the precinct, just a handful of days before Christmas. Castle is in full-fledged holiday spirit mode, feeling emboldened by his merry mood.

The fact that he and Beckett spent their last case handcuffed to each other really only adds to his cheer.

They've been doing paperwork all morning — er, _she's_ been doing paperwork all morning. He's been doodling in a notebook on the edge of her desk and trying (read: failing) to beat his top score in Angry Birds. He'd be bored out of his mind any other day, but he loves how peaceful it is, especially with the flurries of snow falling gently outside.

"What are your plans for Christmas, Beckett?" he asks her, feigning nonchalance as he pours her a cup of coffee in the breakroom. She goes still beside him and his gaze falls to her hands, now shoved deep in the pockets of her dress pants.

"I'm working, Castle," she says quietly.

"Oh," he replies flatly. "Pick the last number in the precinct Christmas lottery or something?" He hands off the warm mug, the tips of his fingers lingering against hers for too long. Her palm wraps around it with a warm, grateful smile.

"Not exactly," she hedges carefully. "I work every Christmas. It's sort of my tradition."

He balks at that. " _Tradition_? But Kate, how can - " he cuts himself off, everything she's not saying clear as day in the the grip of her hands, the tight line of her jaw. And then he's shoving _his_ hands into his pockets so he doesn't reach for her.

They don't do that. Not yet.

"Right," he croaks. "I'm sorry."

She shoots him a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "You didn't know."

He _didn't_ but he wishes he had guessed before he went blabbering off.

"Why do you ask?" She takes a long sip of her coffee, peering over the cup at him with curious eyes.

He shakes his head. "It's dumb."

She cocks her head. "What is it, Castle?"

He hesitates. "I was going to ask if you wanted to come over to the loft, either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. Have some cookies, watch a movie, maybe," he shrugs, "Didn't have anything specific in mind, just thought it might be nice."

He tried so hard to be casual about it, but despite their in-between status, there just isn't anything casual about any of it anymore.

"I appreciate the thought, Rick," she says quietly, the rare use of his first name catching his attention. She sets her mug down on the counter, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in thought.

"Actually…" she trails off, running a palm down the sleeve of her fuzzy purple sweater. She looks so cozy today. "I might have a counteroffer," she suggests with the twitch of her lips.

Oooh. Castle leans over the counter eagerly, rests his head on his fist. "I'm listening."

She rolls her eyes. "For once."

"Beckett," he whines.

"I was thinking about heading up to my dad's cabin this weekend. Just get out of the city on the last few shopping days, away from all the craziness." she pauses, adorably shuffling her feet. "You wouldn't wanna join me, would you?"

He jerks up quickly, nearly smashes his knee against the cupboard in his haste. "You're not joking, right?"

She chuckles. "I'm not joking. I can't promise there'll be much in the way of yuletide celebrating, though —"

"I'm in," he says quickly.

"I _mean_ it, Castle. No tree, no eggnog, no flocking," she says sternly.

"Cookies and hot chocolate?" he offers. _Maybe mistletoe_ , he adds to himself. She doesn't need to know about that one, though.

She grins. "Now you're talking. So you in?"

"Can I drive?"

"Not a chance, Castle," she says wryly.

"You drive a hard bargain, Detective, but I'm in. When do we leave?"

"Early Friday morning okay?"

He smiles. "It's perfect."

"Meet me at my place at 7. Don't forget the coffee," she winks.

* * *

He barely sleeps Thursday night, a combination of anxiety and excitement pooling in his stomach as he tosses and turns. He tries to keep his expectations low, respect her wall and boundaries, but his mind runs amuck with possibilities anyway.

He finally gives up around 5, now thankful that she didn't agree to let him drive. He putters around the loft, careful not to wake his mother or Alexis, and packs a few last-minute things, including his laptop and a couple of books. He has no idea how warm the cabin will be or if they'll venture outside much into the snow, so he packs outdoor accoutrements, as well.

Ugh, she's _so_ going to make fun of him for packing too much.

Ah, well.

He leaves a note for the loft's other occupants — reminding them of the homemade cookie dough he left for them in the fridge for a snack later — before he's out the door with just enough time to stop and pick up coffee and maybe a bear claw for Kate. _Only Kate_ , he chides himself as he rubs his tired eyes. A sugar crash is the last thing he needs right now.

He arrives at her apartment just before 7, has to set one of his duffel bags on the floor to rap on her door, taking extra care not to spill their coffees. Though he's already finished half of his. Ugh. He really should've gotten a Venti.

She swings open the door with bright eyes and a pleased smile, comfortably dressed in a winter- white sweater, jeans and a plaid scarf draped loosely around her shoulders.

 _She_ clearly got plenty of rest.

"Your coffee and bear claw, Detective," he hands over her breakfast treats with a flourish.

She takes them from him gratefully, her eyes fluttering closed as she inhales her coffee. "Thanks, Castle." Her eyes fall to the bags at his feet and then back up at him as she lifts a brow in amusement.

"You know we're only going to be gone for a couple of days, right, Castle?" she chuckles. "Is one of those for your hair products?"

He scoffs. "Beckett, I do _not_ use hair products." Much.

She rolls her eyes, stepping back to lead him inside her apartment. "Riiiight."

He trails in after her, plopping down his luggage next to the bag she's placed by the door. "Let me just grab my coat and do a sweep to make sure I didn't forget anything," she calls to him over her shoulder, already halfway down the hall.

"I'll be here." He shivers a little, the cold lingering on his skin. He almost wishes he had put more layers on, but he knows he'll be plenty warm in the car once they get moving.

She pops out of her bedroom in a ski jacket he's never seen her wear before, a beanie draped casually over her head. Very Un-Beckett, but maybe more Kate?

"You look adorable," he says, eyes twinkling. "How have I never seen that coat before?"

She flushes from his praise. "I usually save the peacoats for work and wear something a little more practical if I'm going to be outside in the elements a little longer," she explains with a shrug.

Her eyes trail over their baggage again, cataloguing everything one more time. "Think we've got everything. We can stop for a couple of groceries once we get a little closer. There's a great market not far from the cabin. Ready?"

He nods. "Ready, Freddie."

"Let's go, Joe," she shoots back with a little smirk.

Kate Beckett is _playing with him_ and he is so into it.

Well, until she flat-out denies him when he tries to turn on Mariah Carey Christmas tunes. At least she lets him get away with some holiday jazz, which he'll settle for.

"Does your dad go up to the cabin much in the winter?" Castle asks, shrugging out of his thick coat as he maneuvers around his seatbelt. Fewer layers was a good call.

"Yeah, he spends Christmas there," she affirms. "So he'll arrive not long after we head back to the city."

"Does he know…" Castle trails off.

"That I'm bringing you with me this weekend?" she finishes. "I mentioned it yesterday when I talked to him on the phone. He thinks it'd be good for me to have company."

Castle hums. "And you?"

"Wouldn't have asked you if I didn't want you there with me, Castle," she replies, turning to look at him with soft, kind eyes. "Thank you for saying yes."

His heart skips a beat. "Thank you for inviting me."

She doesn't respond with anything other than a smile, flicking up the radio a bit as she begins to hum along quietly to "Winter Wonderland."

After a quick 30-minute stop at the market, they arrive at their destination just before noon. Castle helps her carry their groceries in before he treks back outside to grab their bags, stepping carefully on his way to the car. There's about six more inches of snow up here than there is in the city. He's glad he decided to pack a little more — even if she did poke fun at him.

He toes out of his shoes when he makes it back inside, careful not to track any snow into the living room. He sets their bags by the couch and pads into the kitchen to find all the food stored, Kate stowing the paper bags under the sink.

"You really know your way around this place," Castle admires.

"Been coming up here at least once a year since I was 12," Kate replies, removing her hat as she shakes out her hair. He wonders if she washed her hair this morning, swears he can detect the faint scent of her conditioner.

"Let me give you the tour and show you where you'll be sleeping and then we can get start the fire." He trails behind her, following suit as she picks up her bag and leads him to one of the bedrooms.

She opens the door, revealing a moderately sized room complete with a queen-sized bed, dresser, reading chair and a chest that sits at the end of the bed.

"I know it's a little chilly in here right now," she admits with a shiver. His fingers twitch at his side, suppressing the urge to remove his jacket and drape it over her shoulders. "But it'll warm up here soon. Might have to turn on the electric heat," she ponders aloud. "If you do get cold though, there are a few heavy blankets and some extra pillows in that chest."

He steps further into the room, removing his belongings from his shoulder as she rambles on.

"The chair is pretty comfortable but it does have this one spot that sags a little when you sit in it. If the sun gets too bright in the morning, you can pull down the — "

"Kate," he interjects with a light laugh. "It's perfect. Thank you."

She lets out a breath. "Right, sorry. Just...is this too weird, Castle?"

He deflates a little. "Oh, uh, I mean, I don't have to stay if you aren't comfortable — "

"No, no," she rushes out. "It's not that. Just, I - " she groans, covering her face with her hands. "I suck at words."

"Hey, look." He removes her hands from her face, squeezing one reassuringly before he gently lets go. "I'm coming into this with zero expectations, Beckett. I know you think I don't listen…"

She rolls her eyes at that.

"But I heard you this summer and I know where we're at, what we're...working toward," he says, choosing his words carefully. " _Nothing_ is going to happen on this trip that you aren't ready for. Okay?"

She sighs, visibly relaxes a little. "Yeah. Thanks, Castle."

"Always."

She juts a thumb out over her shoulder. "I'm gonna go set this stuff down in my room."

His face falls dramatically. "Does this mean I don't get to see Katie Beckett's room?"

She narrows her eyes. "Never call me that again, Castle, or you'll be walking back to the city."

He gulps. "Yes, Detective."

"Come on." She spins on her heel, shaking her head as they exit the bedroom. He can't see the twitch of her lips, but he knows it's there.

It's always there.


	2. Chapter 2

_To those of you who have asked - yes, I am still actively working on_ smoke rings in the dark. _It's been awhile since I've updated it, so I'm waiting until it's completely written before I resume posting. Appreciate the interest - it has never been my intention to abandon that story. Suffered through a little burnout, but am (mostly) back in action now._

 _Thank you for being patient._

* * *

He follows her down a short, narrow hallway that's mostly sparse with the exception of a few family photos. One in particular stops him in his tracks: Kate and Johanna doubled over with laughter on the floor of the kitchen, covered head to toe with flour. Judging from the softness of Kate's cheeks and the braids in her hair, he'd guess she's maybe 14 — a handful of years before it all changed so quickly for them.

It makes his heart ache.

"My dad took that." He startles a little at the rasp of her voice behind him. He stills, doesn't dare turn around and interrupt her. "I was 13. My mom took a couple days off work just before Christmas. She was still working crazy hours then, so we decided to just spend the entire day baking," she says wistfully.

"I messed up one of the recipes and ruined an entire batch. I got so upset and I couldn't be consoled." She sidles up next to him, her eyes cloudy with the memory.

"Then she dipped her hand in the bucket of flour, reached up and swiped my cheek," she whispers, eyes locked on his as she lifts a hand to playfully swipe at him, and he swears he's hallucinating as her fingers dart the short path, sending a shiver down his spine.

Just as quickly, her hand slips away and her heavy gaze lands on the picture in front of them. "We must've had half the flour coating each other and the kitchen when my dad picked up the camera and snapped this," she croaks.

He takes a risk, reaching down for her hand to tangle their fingers together, squeezing gently. He loosens them a little, lest he really scare her, but she doesn't let go.

"I miss her so much, Rick."

He swallows hard, and it's killing him not to comfort her the way he really wants to, take her in his arms and brush his lips against her forehead. "I know, Kate. More than anything, I wish she was here with you right now."

She nods. "Me too."

They stand shoulder to shoulder in silence for a moment, before she squeezes his hand once more and releases it. She turns back toward the path of her room wordlessly and he follows.

He'll always follow.

* * *

She's a little tired after their drive, she says, so they retire to their respective rooms to rest for a little while. She gives him a wane little smile and promises to be back in fighting shape in a couple of hours. He sees right through her though, knows that even just telling him that story, being here, has taken a little bit out of her. And then there's the sobering realization that it really is only a couple of weeks until the anniversary of Johanna's death.

After he unpacks, he pulls out a battered copy of one of his favorite mysteries and curls up under the blankets. They've got the fire going now and he's got his door open to circulate the heat, but the cold still seeps down into his bones.

Sleep begins to pull at his eyes after only a few pages, his restless night chasing after him until he finally gives in.

He wakes to the strong aroma of coffee and his name tumbling softly from the mouth of the woman of his dreams, as if she's snuggled in next to him naked, all tangled limbs and breathless sighs. He opens one eye and groans when he finds her instead perched at the edge of his bed, fully clothed.

"Have a nice dream, Castle?" she hums at him, her eyes sparkling with interest, as if she knows _exactly_ where his mind was at two seconds ago.

"Offering to make it a reality?" he jokes with the waggle of his brows as he wiggles to a sitting position.

She rolls her eyes, but if he's not mistaken, he detects the faint hint of a blush behind that coffee cup of hers.

"Made you some coffee," she says, nodding her head toward the steaming mug that rests on the bedside table.

"Wow, my dream really did come true," he deadpans. She tosses him a glare and _oh yeah_ , that's a look. That's definitely a look.

"Do you feel like going for a walk? It'll get dark soon, so I figured we could get some fresh air, come back and make dinner and just hang out. Maybe tomorrow we can go into town or go ice skating?" she offers.

"Whatever you want to do, Kate."

She pinches the bridge of her nose, mildly exasperated. "Castle - "

"No, sorry," he interrupts quickly. "I'm not saying that to be wishy-washy. I just meant that it's been a busy couple of months and I know the next one won't be easy either. I'm not expecting to be entertained the entire time I'm here, Beckett."

He shrugs. "We came up here to get away from all the noise, so I'm content to relax and see where the weekend takes us."

Relief washes over her face. "Okay," she sighs out. "Good."

He examines her. "Were you worried about that?"

She tugs at her bottom lip. "A little."

"All right, there is _literally_ no way for me to say this without sounding cheesy so don't roll your eyes at me, Beckett, but I really just wanted to spend time together. I don't care what we do, even if it's nothing at all."

She groans, wrinkling her nose up. "You're right, that was cheesy."

"Wowww, have fun on the walk by yourself," he draws out with a pout.

"Castle!"

"Yeah, yeah. Give me ten minutes to drink up and layer up," he grumbles.

She pats his leg through the thick comforter draped across him. "Eight," she counters, gently hopping off the bed.

He tosses a pillow at her for that but she dodges him easily, letting out a tinkling laugh as she cradles her coffee close to her, careful not to jostle it as she leaves him to change.

Castle whistles, impressed. He sits up eagerly to call after her. "You know, you'd make a great dodgeball player, Beckett. Hey, wanna join a league when we get back? It would be - "

" _Castle_!" she shouts warningly.

"So bossy," he mutters grumpily to himself.

" _I heard that!_ "

God, he loves her.

He finds her in the kitchen a few minutes later, after she's just finished shoving her feet into a pair of snow boots. Her coat is unzipped for now, but she's already got an adorable hat atop her head, a snowy white ball of fluff.

She swats him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"That hat...it's very Un-Beckett," he observes. "Cute as hell, though."

"It's warm and it was on sale. Any other observations you would like to make about my winter accoutrements, Castle?" she asks him, pursing her lips as she folds her arms across her chest.

"Oooh, say 'accoutrements' again."

She glares at him, thrusting her hands into a pair of black gloves like she would if she were at a crime scene. He wonders if she even notices she does it anymore.

"I can't believe you made me get ready in eight minutes and you're not even ready to go yet," he whines.

"We can always just stay here and cuddle, Castle," she teases, a question in her eyes. _Do you remember?_

How could he forget?

He closes the space between them in a couple of swift steps, and she sucks in a breath, steadying herself with the loose curl of her fingers at the edges of his coat sleeves. His eyes fall to hers as his nose inches closer.

He dashes the moment then, reaching around behind her and playfully squeezing the ball of her hat. "Maybe later," he says with a shrug before he brushes past her for the door, leaving her a little stunned in his wake.

He reaches for the doorknob, his flair for dramatics burning bright inside him as he looks over his shoulder. "You comin', Beckett?"

She stalks past him, muttering under her breath, both huffy and flustered now, never looking more beautiful.

When he turns his back to shut the door behind him, a snowball smacks him in the back of the head, and yeah, he supposes he deserved that.

An hour later, they've ended up on a path that surrounds the lake.

"It's beautiful out here," Castle observes breathlessly. There aren't many trees at this point in their walk and they can see for what feels like miles, just a few houses sprinkled here and there. "There aren't many homes out here."

Kate nods. "Those residents pretty much live here all year-round and they have a lot of acreage. That house there?" She points to one that sits atop the closest hill, smoke rising from its modest chimney. "Mr. and Mrs. Pauza. She's a retired schoolteacher and he was a farmer until he got too old to keep up with the land himself. They have at least 40 acres, maybe more."

"Do you know them well?" he asks.

She shrugs. "A bit. My dad and Mr. Pauza are old hunting buddies."

"Your dad hunts?" Castle asks, surprised.

She snorts. "Not much. It's really just an excuse to pal around with each other, play cards and smoke cigars. We passed a hunting shelter a little ways back, did you see it?"

"Oh, _that's_ what that was? I thought it was a treehouse," he says, a little crestfallen.

Her radiant laugh expels from her lips, hovering in a breath of cold air in front of them. He takes a deep breath, as if he could lock it inside, make it settle into his heart.

"Not quite, Castle," she teases. "But maybe if you're lucky you can convince me to let you help build us a fort in the living room this weekend."

He scoffs, fisting his gloved hands in the pockets of his coat to keep the blood flowing. " _Help_? Beckett, I am the master of fort-building. I majored in fort-building, okay?"

"Oh yeah?" She stops in her tracks, eyebrows raised in challenge. "Shall we make a little wager then?"

"Tell me more."

"Whoever constructs the best fort gets to pick the night's activity."

Castle wrinkles his nose. "That's a little boring, Beckett."

"Did I mention I packed a bottle of tequila?"

He gasps. "Does this mean you're not making me key lime pie like you promised?"

She rolls her eyes. "Keep up, Castle."

"All right, all right. Let's say I agree to this little wager. Who, exactly, are we going to get as an impartial third party judge?" he asks.

She tamps down on her lip in thought, her eyes sparking with an idea. "You get cell reception in the cabin, right?"

He nods.

"So we'll just take a couple of photos and send them to the boys."

He frowns. "I didn't tell them we were coming up here together. Did you?"

Her face falls. "No. Good point."

He snaps his fingers. "Lanie?"

Beckett shakes her head. "I didn't tell her either. Alexis?"

Castle snorts, nearly tripping over a rock in the process. They've made it back to the woods now and the terrain is a little more unpredictable than the flat concrete jungle he's used to. "What makes you think my daughter isn't automatically going to choose me?"

"Castle, your daughter has more objectivity in her pinky finger than you do in your entire body," she tosses at him.

He makes a face. "Beckett, that is - " She throws him a look. "Very true. Good point," he admits.

"So do we have a wager then, partner?" her eyes twinkle as she holds out a gloved hand.

"Oh, it is _so_ on."

* * *

 _Will have spotty internet service from tomorrow through Christmas afternoon. Still shooting for an update tomorrow, but at latest, Christmas evening for Chapter 3._


	3. Chapter 3

_Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday._

* * *

When they get back, they shuck their coats and accessories, now thoroughly frozen.

"C-Castle," Kate starts, shivering a little. "Do you mind starting up the fire while I change? Then we can figure out what we want to do for dinner and get the oven going, too."

"Of course. Go get warm," he reassures her, slipping out of his boots. He's a little chilly himself, so he leaves his coat on for now, just until she returns.

He sends up a little prayer of thanks that the fireplace isn't exactly a primitive one, as it uses gas logs. Easy to start up, but also not terribly efficient, so they might have to cheat a little later tonight and turn on the back-up electric heat.

He really doesn't care how the cabin warms up, as long as he's warm, and more importantly, that she is, too.

'Thanks for doing that," the gracious cadence of her voice warms him from the inside out, and his heart skitters a little more when he turns around.

She's all soft comfort in a pair of flannel pajama pants, an oversized NYU sweatshirt and a pair of fuzzy socks, her hair tucked back into a low, loose ponytail.

"Is this the part where you make fun of my ratty pajamas, Castle?" she asks him.

He shakes his head. "Not at all. You look very cozy." _Adorable_ , he adds to himself. But she's flushing like he said that last part out loud and crap, maybe he did.

"You wanna go get warm and then we can start dinner?" she suggests.

"Why yes, Detective Beckett, I would love to snuggle with you. I thought you would never ask."

It doesn't faze her for a second, though. She takes a couple steps toward him, and lets a finger trail lightly over his flannel-covered chest where his jacket separates. "You play your cards right, Castle — or build your forts right, as the case may be — and who knows?" She flutters her lashes, toying with him, and it's _so working_.

"Is that right?" he coughs out.

Her hand falls from his chest. "Or we can make you a little doggy bed out here in front of the fire," she deadpans with the roll of her eyes.

He huffs out, unimpressed, but doesn't have a comeback. She traipses off to the kitchen, chuckling with the shake of her head.

He returns moments later in a pair of grey sweatpants slung low on his hips, a pair of moccasin slippers and a zip-up hoodie.

When he comes in, she's got a hip cocked against the door of the refrigerator as she peruses its contents. "Castle, how would you feel about a stew," she calls, her voice loud enough to carry back into his room. "Maybe some beef and vegetables..." She turns around, her voice going quiet now that she's noticed his presence.

He can't help but watch her throat work, her dark gaze unsubtly trailing the length of him. _Oh_. He's more than a little pleased that domestic Castle seems to be affecting her just as much as domestic Kate did for him just a few minutes earlier.

"If you're done checking me out Beckett," he smirks, making a show out of walking to the fridge, "Might I suggest some crescent rolls to go with our meal?"

"Just remember which of us will be holding the knife, Castle," she threatens, the pink that stains her cheeks working its way up to her ears.

"And you're not afraid to use it," he mutters in remembrance. "We've been here before, Beckett." He fishes his hand into the fridge to grab the canister of prepared bread that he's looking for.

"Au contraire, Castle," she murmurs. "We're in new territory."

His gaze snaps to her, awestruck, and he nearly drops the can in his hand. She holds his eyes for a moment longer than is comfortable for her before she gives in to her discomfort, ducking her head as she tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

They work easily side by side in silence until Beckett snags her phone to pull up a jazz playlist, made up of mostly Coltrane. She places the phone in a shallow cup, a makeshift speaker, and returns to her task, humming softly along. He has a hard time keeping his eyes off her and it sends a sharp little pang through him, the fact that he could completely get used to this.

If he hasn't already by weekend's end.

The rolls take him but a few minutes to lay out on the baking sheet and won't be ready to go in the oven until about ten minutes before they're ready to eat, so Castle busies himself peeling and cutting up some potatoes for the stew.

"Do you cook a full meal often?" Beckett asks him curiously over the steady sound of her chopping carrots.

"Usually a few times a week," he guesses. "Mother isn't exactly one for cooking, but it used to be a nightly activity for Alexis and me. She's gotten a little busy with preparing for college and graduation, but we still manage to do it together at least once a week."

"It's nice that you have that time together, Castle," she says sincerely, abandoning the carrots to briefly stir the pot on the stove.

"Does it get lonely, Kate?" he asks softly. It's a risky, intimate question, he knows, but he can't help but feel like it's the perfect time — the perfect setting — for it.

She freezes, a little caught off guard by the question. She's quiet for what feels like a long time and so the apology forms on his lips, ready to go until —

"Yes, Castle." Her voice is barely above a whisper, her body shuddering out on a long sigh. "Yes, it does," she reaffirms quietly.

A fissure forms in his heart and it takes every ounce of him not to push her any more, show her what she could have if she just took a sledgehammer to the remaining part of her wall.

But he knows she's trying in her own way.

Doesn't mean he isn't yearning to help, though. He just wants to love her.

It's barely 7 o'clock when they clear the last of the dishes away. They'd spent most of dinner in comfortable silence, and Castle had already started plotting his fort, mentally cataloguing some of the items he'd be putting to good use.

"Is it time now?" he asks, bouncing on his toes as she dries the last dish in her hand.

"And to think we didn't even have any sugar with our dinner," she says pointedly.

"It's been four years, Beckett. You can't honestly tell me you're still surprised at my ability to be a grown child."

She laughs. "No, but I think that's the first time you've ever admitted that to me."

"There's a first time for everything," he says. She looks at him knowingly and _oh_ that's not how he meant it at all but damn it all if it doesn't send a bolt of electricity zapping through him.

She clears her throat, sending their thoughts scattering away. "Should we time this thing?" she challenges.

He scoffs. "If you want to make it harder on yourself, go ahead, Beckett."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "All right, fine. Here are the rules: One hour. It has to be set up in the living room, and you can't use anything from outside."

Ah, fuck. There goes his brilliant idea to wipe down one of the chairs on the porch and use it as part of the foundation.

"And you can't steal anything from the other person's fort when they have their back turned," he amends, thrusting out his hand. "May the best person win."

"Don't worry, Castle," she slides her warm hand easily into his. "She will."

* * *

He feels the sweat start to form on his upper brow about thirty minutes in as he anxiously peers over at her work, trying to pretend as if he isn't preoccupied by her strategy.

Castle should've predicted that Beckett would have a bit of a leg up in their little competition, as she's practically grown up in this house and knows where everything useful could be. It hit him full force when she disappeared for 10 minutes before emerging from a basement he didn't even know existed. She scrounged up a set of tall dining room chairs that would be perfect for the perimeter of her structure.

The chairs he grabbed from the kitchen aren't quite sufficient, a little on the short side, so he grabbed a rod from the closet in his room and propped it up in the middle to give the fort a little more height. Castle claimed the couch while Kate was in the basement, gleeful in his quick thinking — which he now realizes was really not that smart. Even with the rod, the couch, and the two chairs from the kitchen, his is a little sad next to her bountiful fortress.

He tries to make up for it with comfort, snagging the thick quilt from his bed and a stack of pillows to lay down the bed of the fort. There are only 12 minutes left when she scampers off _again_. He stares at her setup longingly, really beginning to regret his addendum to the rules.

He's an idiot.

She returns with a twisted ball of clear Christmas lights, winking at him and his gaping mouth.

"You're putting _lights_ on your fort? Beckett, this is so not fair," he complains. "You know where everything is in this house!"

"You agreed to the terms, Castle. It's not my fault you didn't take that into account," she says with a shrug as she unravels the cord with ease, draping it carefully along the outside.

He pouts, but she's not wrong.

Now he just has to figure out how to win when he's lost.

They FaceTime Alexis, even though he knows there's no real need to. Kate has clearly won this one.

"I expected more from you, Dad," Alexis admonishes after declaring Kate the winner.

Castle hangs his head. "I know, Pumpkin."

"We'll discuss this when you get home. Maybe you can redeem yourself and challenge Kate here at the loft some night when you get back."

"If your dad thinks he can handle another loss," Kate quips from the doorway, admiring her own handiwork.

Castle narrows his eyes at her over his phone. "I'd say I've been a gracious winner so far, Beckett."

She snorts. "For now. I'm sure I'll hear about it for the rest of the night."

Before he can retort, Alexis cuts in, amused but a little impatient as she wraps a scarf around her neck with one hand. "I gotta go, Dad. I'm meeting some friends to go ice-skating at Bryant Park."

"All right, Pumpkin. Have fun and stay safe."

"Enjoy the rest of your weekend with Detective Beckett. Bye Kate!" Alexis calls out.

Kate flushes, a little too pleased by the acknowledgment, he thinks. "Good night, Alexis!" she answers.

His daughter is gone with the whip of her red hair and the click of a button. He shoves his phone into the deep pocket of his sweatpants and sighs.

"All right, Beckett. What'll it be?" He's disappointed he lost, but he's a little (okay, a _lot_ ) excited to see what kind of alcohol-related activity she'll subject him to.

"So I _was_ thinking maybe a game of some kind, but I'm honestly not sure I'm capable of watching you lose twice in one night, Castle," she admits.

"I'm not _that_ bad," he huffs out.

"No, you've been a surprisingly good sport…" she trails off. "But still."

"I might have an idea," he hedges. "You can't really win or lose. But I don't think you're going to like it."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Try me."

"Truth or dare," he says with a wince, already prepared for her pushback. She groans.

"All right, hear me out," he says quickly, holding his hands up in supplication. "You can avoid answering a question or doing a dare, but you have to take a shot every time you do."

"I feel like we're pretty limited in the dares that we can do in a secluded wooded area in the middle of winter," Kate deadpans.

He hears it all in the subtext of her words, though — he can think of plenty of dares but they all have to do with the two of them being in a place that they're definitely not in yet. And he promised her he'd go at her pace, so…

"Fair point," he agrees. "So maybe just a rousing game of Truth or Truth then?"

"This is such a bad idea and I know I'm going to regret this," Kate says, "But hell, let's do it."

"I'll grab the cookie dough while you get the tequila," Castle offers, already bouncing on his toes.

"We have to _bake_ the cookies, Castle."

"Beckett, when was the last time you got salmonella from eating raw cookie dough?"

"Fine. But you should know the nearest hospital is almost an hour away," she says, maneuvering carefully around the fort on her way to her bag.

"Do I wanna know that story?"

Her lips twitch. "Game hasn't started yet, Castle."


	4. Chapter 4

She shuffles off to her room then as he pads to the kitchen, his stomach twisting a little. She wouldn't play the game if she was truly uncomfortable, but he's still worried that they'll end up crossing some boundaries tonight that she'll regret later.

He pulls the package of cookie dough from the refrigerator and tears off a few paper towels from the holder on the counter.

He turns around to find she's already joined him, rummaging through the fridge for the limes they purchased.

"I think there should be a couple of shot glasses above your head in that cabinet," she informs him.

"Right, about that. I was thinking: Maybe we could make a couple of mixed drinks and take sips instead of shots?"

She cocks her head at him curiously, setting the bag of limes onto the counter. "We didn't buy any mixers at the store, Castle."

Fuck, she's right. Plan B. "Right, well...maybe we can take half-shots then?"

Realization creeps into her face then, softens the question in her eyes. "You're worried about this," she says quietly, a little incredulous.

He sighs. "I just don't want something to happen that..."

"I'm not ready for?" she finishes for him with the lift of her brow.

He nods, swallowing hard. "Yes," he manages.

"You're sweet, Castle," she says, her lips tipping into a small smile as she retrieves the cutting board and a knife from the drawer in front of her. "But I'm a big girl and I know what I'm doing."

But it's just a few moments later when his back is turned that he hears her murmur, "Half-shots sound a little more manageable though. Good call."

Minutes later, they're set up comfortably in Kate's fort, cuddled up among cushions from the couch, fluffy comforters, and silky pillows. They've flicked off most of the lights except for the one in the kitchen that barely trails its way to their spot, lit only by the blaze of the fire and the string of Christmas lights.

Kate gingerly places the bowl of limes and the salt shaker to the left of their shot glasses as Castle tears open the cookie dough with his teeth.

She blinks at him. "We have scissors here, you know."

He shrugs. "Better if I show you how manly I can be," he mumbles over a mouth half-full of plastic, tearing the package open in seconds.

"Now," he starts, rubbing his hands together. "Would you like to do the honors of asking the first question since you've crafted our shelter for the evening?"

"Don't mind if I do," she hums. "I'll throw you a softball for your first question. Out of the dozens of cases we've worked together, what's been your favorite?"

He rubs the back of his neck in thought. "I'm not sure I can explain this well," he admits.

She looks surprised. "Enlighten me, Castle. I'm already intrigued."

"Strangers on a Train," he replies.

Her brow furrows. "The Ashley Cosway case?"

"Yeah."

She shrugs. "It was a pretty enthralling case, but I am surprised that's the one you went with."

"I felt like it was the first time you really saw me as your partner. Those first dozen or so cases — I was your shadow who annoyed you, doing my research. Then your ex showed up," he makes a face, "and then I screwed things up by digging up your mother's murder," he explains.

"I know you weren't exactly thrilled at first about the bet we had with Ryan and Esposito but then you were in on it and it was the first time we really worked together." He hesitates. "Does that make any sense at all?"

She looks a little taken aback by it all. "Yeah, it makes perfect sense, Castle. Just...I, uh, guess I thought you'd choose something a little more adventurous."

"Every case is an adventure with you, Kate," he says without missing a beat. Silence. "That was pretty cheesy, wasn't it?" he asks with a wince.

She laughs, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "It was, but it was sweet."

She snags the pack of cookie dough while he thinks on his question. He's got the perfect one just as she sinks her teeth into a piece.

"All right, I've got one, but it's sort of a three-parter," he wiggles three fingers at her.

"Castle," she warns, licking a swipe of chocolate from her lips.

"You haven't even heard it yet!" he protests. She rolls her eyes but waves for him to continue.

"Have you ever been a part of a fandom," he ticks off a finger, "If yes, how many fandoms," he ticks off another, "And what's the biggest thing you've ever done for said fandoms?"

She groans, her head falling into her hands.

"Ha! I knew it. Kate Beckett has a nerdy side," he says triumphantly.

She sighs. "All right, I'll answer these because I'm not a quitter, Castle." She grabs the bottle of tequila and twists the cap off with ease.

He frowns. "I thought you said you were answering."

"I am," she confirms, pouring a shot. "I just need a little liquid courage first."

"Ooh, this is gonna be good," he says with a gleam in his eye.

She narrows her eyes at him as she shakes the salt onto her wrist, swiping her tongue across the skin before downing the shot with a small wince. His eyes cling to her mouth as she takes the lime between her teeth, sucking at the juice.

"You're gonna catch flies with your mouth open like that, Castle," she smirks, smudging at the corners of her lips with her fingers.

"Right." He clears his throat.

"All right," she claps her hands together. "In the most basic sense of the word fandom, one might be able to say that I have been part of two."

"Two?!"

"Hush, Castle," she admonishes him. "I once cosplayed — "

"Shut up, you did not!" his hands clap over his mouth with glee, and he remembers all too late that she told him not to be quiet.

"For Nebula 9," she says through gritted teeth, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from commenting on that because Nebula 9? Is she joking?

Oh man, Katherine Beckett.

He waits for her to tell him the second instance, but she goes silent then, shifting uncomfortably as she stares everywhere except at him. But he can't imagine anything she could tell him would be more embarrassing for her than that, except —

Oh.

Wait.

"Kate?" he breathes out. "Was it…"

She sucks in a breath. "I waited in line for an hour once to get my book signed by this author. I sort of fell into reading his books not long after my mother died," her voice catches, her fingers curling against the fabric of her pants, "They really helped me get through her death, you know? I couldn't get justice for her, not yet, but the characters in those books — somehow they found it. It sounds silly now, but they made me feel like I would find it someday too." She brushes her eyes with the back of her hand.

His mouth has gone dry now and he doesn't dare speak, not yet.

"I am, of course, talking about you," she rasps, shooting him an all-too-brief watery smile.

He's an idiot. How could he not remember her?

"It was so long ago, Castle," she says gently, and he realizes he must've accidentally said that last part out loud.

"Can I hug you?" he blurts out, a little stupid with it.

She laughs through her tears, nodding. "I think that'd be okay."

The metronome in his chest thumps loudly and he wonders if she can hear it. It's been over six months since the last time he had his arms around her, that horrible night in the hangar that's branded into his memory forever.

He rocks forward onto his knees and engulfs her before he can talk himself out of it, one hand curling into the strands of her ponytail while the other wraps around her waist. She sags against him, sighing deeply into his neck.

"Thank you for telling me," he whispers.

"Thank you for being there," she murmurs back.

* * *

The mood has considerably lightened a little while later. Discarded lime wedges litter the floor of their circle and they're both just on the other side of tipsy at this point. The game takes Kate's initial lead — both mostly unwilling to refuse a question or answer it sober.

"When was the first time you thought to yourself, 'Man, that guy Rick Castle...he's pretty ruggedly handsome?' " Castle asks, slurring his words a little. Okay, maybe he is closer to drunk than tipsy.

Whoops.

"You cannot be serious. Does your ego really need that much feeding?" She snorts, pushing her hair back impatiently from her face, most of it now escaped her ponytail. The alcohol has warmed both of them more than the fire has, so she's ditched her sweatshirt, comfy in her sweatpants and a black tank.

"I'm waiting," he taps his wrist impatiently.

"Who says I ever found you attractive?" she taunts him.

He flinches. "Ouch, Beckett. That one hurt."

"I don't know, Castle," she whines in exasperation. Hmm. Maybe she's a little drunk, too. "I've never not found you attractive."

She gestures at him. " You've got those nice blue eyes and that great ass," she blurts out.

What did she just say?

"Katherine Beckett, I never," he says with a low whistle, his eyebrows waggling at her.

She claps her hand over her mouth, eyes widening comically. "I've said too much."

"No, no. Keep going. I would love to hear more," he encourages, leaning his head on his open palm, a captive audience.

"Not gonna happen. I answered your question, now it's my turn, bud," she asserts. "Do you think that we…" she clears her throat, looking up at him from under her lashes. "Do you think that we would implode?"

And just like that the mood has shifted.

His head nearly jerks off his hand. "Y-you mean you and me — as in - " he stutters out.

"You and me. Together. Partners in work and in life," she says bluntly.

Holy fuck, he really needs to suggest that they drink together more often.

"I think we'd be incredible together. I know we both carry our share of baggage," he acknowledges. "But I shudder to think of what my life would be like if you hadn't strutted into it four years ago."

She laughs a little. "I really rocked your world, huh?"

"I like to think I made yours a little better," he says, feigning offense.

"You changed my life, Castle," she murmurs, heaving a sigh as she lets her cheek rest upon her knee.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, it's just," she pauses, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she gets her bearings. "What if we ruin the best thing that's happened to us?"

Oh, Kate. He leans in, a little daring as he sweeps a finger along the curve of her cheek. "As much fun as I have playing cop, I don't think I'd still be here with you if I didn't...feel more. There will always be plenty of Nikki to write, but it's about so much more than her story now."

He shakes his head. "Beckett, don't you see? One of the reasons you and I work so well together is because of how much we care, not only about the work, but each other," he emphasizes. "Our partnership is the best thing that's ever happened to us because of the way we feel about each other. Not in spite of it."

She turns her mouth into the curve of her knee, failing at hiding a shy smile. "How come you always know just what to say?"

He grins. "It's what I do."

"Truth or dare?"

"Beckett, it's my turn - "

"Truth or dare, Rick?"

He swallows hard. "Dare."

Her eyes hold his, unflinching, unblinking as she lifts her head and inches ever so closely, her knee easing slightly into the vee of his.

Her dark gaze flicks to his mouth. "I dare you," she begins, her voice cracking under the weight of vulnerability. "To kiss me."


	5. Chapter 5

Her dark gaze flicks to his mouth. "I dare you," she begins, her voice cracking under the weight of vulnerability. "To kiss me."

"You sure this isn't the liquor talking?" he laughs uneasily. God, there's nothing he wants more than to feel her pressed against him. It's been almost a year now and he still falls asleep dreaming about the noises she made.

"Maybe a little bit of liquid courage," she concedes. "But this is all me talking," she says shakily. She lifts her trembling fingers to caress gently at the curve of his neck, her hand playing with the fine hairs she finds there.

He lets out a whoosh of breath. "Kate - "

She touches her forehead to his and he can hardly breathe, his hands settling gently at her waist.

"You know," she whispers, her mouth tipping into a joyful smile, "I think if you took a running leap, you could probably hurdle over the last of that wall."

"I'm on my way," he expels on a sigh, closing the remaining distance between them as his lips crash down onto hers. Finally, he's home.

His warm, broad hands slide from her waist to roam at her back, pressing her further into him. She moans into his mouth over the hoofbeats of their hearts, galloping in sync. His mind goes blissfully blank, baptized again in his all-consuming need for her.

She tugs at his bottom lip, playfully bumps her nose against his and he expels a laugh, content to spend forever with her kissing and cavorting in a fort on a cold winter's night. The heat of her mouth sweeps against his cheek, lingering there for a moment before she pulls back, her hands remaining to cradle his jaw.

The shimmer of the Christmas lights reflects in her gaze, bouncing off the warm flush of her cheeks.

"You're blushing," he murmurs, teasing her as he soothes a hand down her back.

"Mmm, it's the tequila," she counters, smudging a protesting kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Detective Beckett," he mumbles against her lips. He slips his fingers under the hem of her shirt to graze the skin of her spine. She shivers, her back bowing at the sensation.

"Let's go to bed."

His head snaps back at that, but she's already shaking her head. "Not - sorry. As much as I am enjoying this," she punctuates with the nudge of her nose against his, "I think we should wait until we're a little more sober. But - "

"There's a but?" he asks hopefully.

She reaches down and boldly squeezes the curve of his ass for that one, sending him jerking into her. "Yes, smartass," she chuckles throatily. "Just because we're holding off on the sex doesn't mean we can't cuddle and make out, right?"

He groans. "I like the way you think, Katherine Beckett."

She sighs against his cheek. "I like everything about you, Richard Castle."

His heart stutters in his chest. "I think you might be more drunk than you thought," he jokes.

She shrugs. "Maybe. Doesn't make it any less true."

The hope in his chest flares, wild and unruly. She could still wake up next to him tomorrow and freak out, but he's got a good feeling.

A really _good_ feeling.

Still, the insecurity takes over a little after he finishes brushing his teeth and washing his face, waiting for her next move as he sits awkwardly on the edge of his bed. Would she come in here? Should he go in there? Did she change her mind in the 15 minutes that have passed since they cleared away the small mess they made?

The sound of her throat clearing yanks him from his thoughts. He glances up to find her leaning her head against the door frame, studying him with her arms folded over her chest.

"You waiting on a formal invitation to my bed, stud?" she says with a smirk.

He chokes on a laugh. "Something like that," he admits.

She's silent, serious as she bounces off the frame, striding toward him with confidence and purpose. She stops a foot away from him, offering her hand out to him.

"Come on," she encourages softly. "I'm not going to change my mind," Kate promises, sensing his trepidation.

He laces his fingers through hers, their palms kissing, and walks down the hallway beside her.

He'll always walk beside her.

* * *

Castle wakes for the first time early in the morning to snow falling thickly outside the window of her bedroom.

She's cuddled up against him, her legs tangled between his, her face peaceful and slack with sleep. Careful not to jostle her, he reaches to his side of the bed for a few gulps of water, his mouth still recovering from their dalliance with tequila.

Making out for 45 minutes before they fell asleep probably didn't help matters much either, he thinks wryly.

He snuggles back into her, smudging his lips across her forehead. She nuzzles into his neck in her sleep and it squeezes like a fist around his heart. He wonders if he'll ever get used to this.

He falls back asleep gently running his fingers through her hair.

It's a few hours later when he rouses again, this time to the feel of her stirring beside him. He snuffles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before he plants his gaze on her as she stretches her limbs out like a cat, practically purring in satisfaction.

Her eyes flutter open and the way they land on his sucks the oxygen out of his lungs. Despite his good feeling last night, he's still anxious about how she would react this morning. But if the shy smile that greets him is any indication, it was all for nought.

"Good morning." Her voice is a little raspy with sleep and it sends his toes curling into the crisp cotton sheets. She snuggles back into him, resting her palm just over his heart.

"Mornin'," he rumbles back. "How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty good. Had a nice, solid pillow to keep me warm," she teases. "Even if he does snore."

"Beckett, I do _not_ snore!" he huffs out.

She pats his chest patronizingly. "Okay, Castle."

They lay in comfortable silence for a moment, but the suspense is killing him. She wouldn't be curled into him right now if she regretted last night, but he craves the reassurance. He needs the words right now, subtext be damned.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Physically? Or emotionally?"

"Both."

She brushes a knuckle across her forehead. "Have a bit of a hangover headache and my throat is kinda dry," she admits. "But not bad."

"There's some water on your nightstand if you want some," he says helpfully.

She nods. "I remember setting it there before we went to bed," she recalls. "Which brings me to the other part of your question."

Her pause is long enough to send his mind spiraling, the insecurity latching onto her brief silence. He tries to prepare himself for some kind of withdrawal, but he knows this to be true: a rejection would quite possibly shatter him.

She clears her throat, snatching his focus again. "I know we both got a little inebriated last night, but it's just like I told you then: I'm a big girl. I knew what I was getting myself into when I invited you here, Castle. It would be foolish of me to think that I could ask you to come up here without also inviting the possibility of us along with it," she confesses softly, brushing her lips against the bob of his Adam's apple.

"I'm still working through a lot, and I think that's evidenced by the fact that it took more than just a little bit of alcohol for me to feel completely comfortable being vulnerable with you," she sighs out. "I'm still a work in progress, but delaying the inevitable just seems silly anymore...especially when the person I'm keeping at arm's length is the one who knows me the most."

For someone who proclaims she sucks at words, he thinks she's pretty damn good at finding them right about now.

"I, uh, don't know what to say," he admits with a laugh.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "That's a first," she smirks.

"You're incredible, Katherine Beckett," he murmurs against the shell of her ear.

"You're a sweet, patient man, Rick," her fingers curve around the back of his neck. "But I can't get the words out that I wanna say — "

He cuts her off with the swift press of his mouth against hers. "Everything that you just said is more than enough for now," he mumbles against her lips.

"No, it's not," she shakes her head, reluctantly breaking their connection. "But you _have_ to know, it - all of it, yes. _Yes_. I'm crazy about you," she says, searching his gaze.

He's pretty sure his heart is gonna beat out of his chest at this point.

"And not just because you drive me crazy," she adds with the Beckett twitch of her lips.

He chortles, breathless with it, with _her_ , and it's too much and not enough and —

It's everything.

"My feelings for you haven't changed," he promises. "We'll go slow and navigate it together." He lifts her hand to his mouth, and kisses her palm.

"I think we're already making progress. Didn't need any tequila this morning to say all that," she jokes.

"You don't have a gun hidden in here, do you?" he asks, comically making a show of looking around the room, his hands darting underneath his pillow for a glock.

"No," she says, amused. "Why?"

"So you don't shoot me when I do this," he husks before he captures her lips, seeking out the warm cavern of her mouth with his tongue.

She sighs into it and he feels her tremble a little under his hands that quest over her body, sensations no longer diluted with alcohol. She snakes a leg around his thigh, trapping him as she rocks into his pelvis. She grows flush under him, whimpering, and he forces himself to stop, make sure.

"Are you okay?" he asks, brushing her hair out of her face.

"Just don't stop," she whispers, rolling into him as her hand scrapes through his hair. "God, _Castle_ , don't fucking stop."

 _Fuck._

He doesn't stop.

* * *

By the time they manage to roll themselves out of bed and into a hot shower, it's well into the early afternoon. Castle is famished.

He putters into the kitchen to prepare them a brunch spread while she dries her hair. He'd honestly be content to stand there and watch her, but he knows she'd shove him out of the bathroom, even if they are kind of a _thing_ now.

 _Still creepy, Castle_ , she would say.

He cuts up a small assortment of fruit before he whips up about a half dozen of scrambled eggs, with a side of bacon and sourdough toast.

He's just getting it all onto the table when she reappears in a pair of leggings, her hair falling down in kinky waves that he's not used to being privy to. _Oh,_ and that's -

That's his hoodie she's wrapped up in, and the sight of her wearing it almost makes him drop his glass of water onto the floor.

"Beckett," he growls, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You're wearing my hoodie."

"Oh, am I?" she asks innocently, her eyes glinting in amusement.

"It looks so much better on you," he observes with a groan, scraping her hair away from her neck so he can slide his mouth to that little spot he's already discovered she loves, just under her ear.

"Castle," she moans, clutching him on a shiver. "The last thing in my stomach was tequila and raw cookie dough and that was _hours_ ago, so if you know what's good for you, you'll desist."

"Say 'desist' again," he bargains.

"Desist," she placates him with the roll of her eyes.

He detangles himself from her, rewarding her with a kiss on the nose. "Thank you."

"This looks great," she admires, pulling out her chair.

He shrugs. "Nothing much. If I had some chocolate, I would've made you my famous smorlette."

She sucks a strawberry between her lips, wiping the juice away from her chin with her fingers. Jesus, this woman will kill him. "I'm afraid to ask," she replies.

"It's essentially a s'more in an omelette. Genius, right?" he asks, snagging a few pieces of bacon. Hmm. He wishes he had made it a little crispier.

"Not sure if that's the word I would've picked," she says delicately.

"You'll love it," he promises.

"I'll try it," she agrees.

"You will?"

She cocks her head, a little surprised. He sees her hesitate a little, but then she's reaching over and lacing her free hand through his.

"Of course I will."

The snow seems to be done falling, but Castle guesses it accumulated somewhere around nine inches, too much for them to really venture away from the cabin today.

Not that he has a problem with that, really. Now that the tension between them has given way to comfort, he would love to spend all day in comfy clothes, attached at her hip.

He's not sure that's her idea of a perfect day, though.

"Are you bummed?" he asks her, putting the last of their breakfast dishes away.

She frowns. "About what?"

"That we're pretty much stuck inside all day. Since we're leaving tomorrow and all," he explains.

She smiles, bumping his hip with hers. "You mean, am I sad that I have an excuse to spend all day doing nothing with you before we head back to the city?" she asks with the lift of her brow. She wraps her arms around his neck, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Not exactly. Kind of my idea of a perfect day."

He grins, relieved. "Mine, too."

* * *

 _Just one more after this. Thank you for reading._


	6. Chapter 6

_So come lay and wait_  
 _Now won't you lay and wait_  
 _Wait on me_  
 _I know places we can go babe_

 _Coming home, come unfold babe_  
 _I know places we can go babe_  
 _Coming home, come unfold babe_

 _ _\- Lykke Li, "I Know Places"__

* * *

Castle has a dozen or so movies downloaded onto his laptop, so they set up camp in the fort again, rearranging the blankets and pillows to cocoon them and prop them up a little. Castle tried setting the computer up on the seat of the chair, but even with all the cushions, it's too much of a strain to get a good vantage point from the floor.

Kate pulls on a pair of thick socks and trudges down into the basement again to see if she can find something small enough to fit in their shelter but suitable enough to work.

She's gone nearly 15 minutes when he considers going down after her, but then she makes a reappearance, smiling triumphantly with a wooden stool in hand.

"Are you completely frozen?" He rubs his palms up and down her arms, trying to tamp down the shivers that wrack her body.

"Little bit," she admits. "Let's get this in there, so we can settle in and I can steal some of that Castle body heat."

"Again, only using me for my body," he grumbles.

The stool is only about a foot and a half tall, perfect in its spot at their feet. They decide on a classic movie they both love: _Back to the Future_.

"How would you rank the sequels?" Kate questions midway through the film, lifting her head to lay on his chest. He's a little surprised, pleasantly so, by how affectionate she is. It only cements what he knows in his head and heart to be true: they really are meant for each other.

"Hmmm," he considers. "Obviously, they don't hold a candle to the first one, but I'm a sucker for the Old West, so I'd have to say movie three over movie number two."

"Really? Interesting."

"Opposite for you?" he posits.

She nods. "I really enjoyed the addition of Mary Steenburgen in the third one, but I love the ultra-futuristic setting in the second one."

"Valid point," he agrees.

"You mean you're not going to push your point until I agree with you?" she teases.

"When have I ever done that?" he protests, looking mildly offended.

She shoots him a glare. "Seriously, Castle?"

"Okay, but I'm right like a _lot_ of the time, Beckett. You have to admit."

"Or maybe that's just what I want you to think," she mumbles, turning her eyes back to the movie.

Wait, wait. "What did you just say?"

She kisses his cheek. "Nothing, nothing."

They've just finished a second movie when Kate's stomach growls loudly under his hand.

"I think it's time to make dinner," he says with a laugh. They haven't really eaten anything since the little brunch he made earlier.

She hums, snuggling into him. "But that requires getting up," she sighs.

He chuckles, kissing her forehead. "You don't have to get up. How about I make us some dinner?"

She shakes her head. "You don't have to do that. You already made us breakfast."

"But I want to," he replies. "And it'll just be something quick and easy. Maybe a little salad, some spaghetti and garlic bread?"

"That sounds perfect."

* * *

"This is really good, Castle," she says twenty minutes later. "Did you add something to the sauce?"

Kate bought jarred sauce from the market, which was completely sufficient for their needs, but he figured he'd jazz it up a little.

"Found a couple of spices in the cabinet to give it some more flavor," he replies, pleased that she's enjoying it.

"When we get back, I'd love to have you over to my place. I'll make us some dinner and we can open up a bottle of wine?" she suggests, taking a bite of her garlic toast.

"You don't have to do that," he says, realizing he's parroted what she said earlier.

"Never thought you'd be trying to get out of a date with me, Castle," she says, trying to keep her voice light. He hears something in her tone, though, and it claws at him.

"Kate," he says gently, "There's nothing I want more than to go on a real date with you — whether one of us cooks a full meal or we go out. I just don't want you to feel obligated because nothing about today or this weekend was done out of obligation."

"I know it wasn't. And this isn't either," she promises.

"Can I ask you a question?"

She takes a sip of water. "Of course."

He hesitates, his fork hovering in midair between his mouth and his plate. "How do you wanna...play this?"

She arches an eyebrow. "You mean, you and me?"

He nods.

She bites down on her lip. "I'd like to keep this to ourselves for a little while, at least at work? I don't really know how Gates would take the news, especially since the NYPD has rules about co-workers dating."

Oh...right. How didn't he think of that one?

"But I don't want us to have to sneak around everywhere. I'd like to tell my dad," she admits, flushing a little. "And if you want to tell Martha and Alexis - "

"I do," he interjects.

She looks pleased. "Good," she says with a smile. "We can keep the conversation open about Lanie and the boys. I don't love the idea of shutting them out, but it might take some of the pressure off, at first."

"Do you feel pressure, Kate? Because I - "

"No, _no_ , Castle," she interrupts firmly. "I just mean that this step you and I have taken, it's so new and I just feel…protective of it, of you. We're just getting our feet on the ground and I just want to enjoy this time with you and make sure we're where we want to be before we add everyone else into the mix. Does that make sense?"

Just like that, the doubt dissipates as he latches onto her words. She feels protective of them and what they have?

It's everything.

"It makes perfect sense," he agrees quietly, beaming at her. "I want to protect us, too."

She doesn't say anything, but looks more at ease now, relieved. He hopes they'll reach a point where they don't feel like they have to tiptoe around each other's feelings, but even talking about them, communicating, is so much progress for them.

They're moving in the right direction.

* * *

"I know it's freezing, but I thought maybe we could go outside for a little bit? Get some fresh air," she calls over her shoulder as she scrubs one of their dinner pots.

He sneaks up behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her stomach as he rests his head on her shoulder. She jumps a little in surprise before she gently knocks her head against his, mildly scolding him.

"Okay, but _only_ if we can build a snowman, Beckett," he counters. His mouth skims the shell of her ear and she shivers under his hands. "And if you promise me life-affirming sex afterward."

She scoffs, but leans further into his touch, her body traitorous. "Our lives aren't in danger out here, Castle."

"Um, I beg to differ. We could die outside in the cold! Frostbite," he claims.

She rolls her eyes. "You're so dramatic."

"Are you saying no to my terms?"

She sighs. "You know the answer to that, bud."

He presses a grin into her cheek. "I'll get my coat."

Fifteen minutes later, he's snug in his coat, a hat, gloves, boots and her father's snow pants. He protested when she offered them to him, but then she pointed out that they'd gotten almost a foot of snow today in addition to the eight inches of snow there already was. They're a little tight on him, he notes sourly, but he _is_ a little bit of a bigger guy than Jim Beckett.

"Lookin' hot, Castle," she chortles, shooting him a wink.

He narrows his gaze at her, ushering her out the door. "Move it along, Beckett. Nothing to see here."

Castle follows her outside and the scene in front of them nearly takes his breath away. The stars are so clear out here, away from the pollution of the city. The snow practically shimmers under the light of the sky, lit by a mostly full moon.

Kate flicks on the porch light to give them a little more visibility.

"This is spectacular," he observes breathlessly, his eyes dancing along the constellations.

"It's pretty incredible," she whispers, wrapping a bulky arm around his waist as she settles her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you again for inviting me up here," he lets out, smudging his lips against her forehead.

She looks up at him, the stars in the sky shining in her eyes. "Thank you for being patient with me."

His forehead falls to rest on hers. "You're more than the worth the wait."

"I'm gonna scrounge up some twigs for his arms," Kate says, trudging through the mounds of snow to reach a nearby tree.

"We should've saved a carrot for his nose," Castle says regretfully. He plucks at the snow with his fat, gloved fingers, trying to mold something resembling a nose onto the small compact ball that's supposed to be the head. It's a little too oval-shaped, but overall, he's pretty pleased, considering what they've had to work with.

"That looks pretty good," Kate praises him with a smile a few minutes later, having returned with a couple of branches. She snaps off the end of one of them to make it more closely match with the other.

"Also got us a couple of stones." she fishes into her coat pocket and produces two rough-looking stones in her gloved hands.

"How did you manage to find those in all this snow?" he asks, impressed.

She shrugs. "The driveway where we parked is filled with gravel. Just had to dig under the snow a little."

He takes the sticks from her and places them carefully in the sides of their little man as she carefully presses the stones into the face, just above the nose.

She steps back and cocks her head, admiring their handiwork.

"Is it just me or is he - " she starts.

"Missing something?" Castle offers.

"My scarf and your hat," Kate bargains.

Castle pouts. "Beckett, I _really_ like this hat."

She rolls her eyes. "My Dad will be up here in two days, Castle. I can make sure your hat is returned safely to you within a week. Honestly…"

"Okay, okay," he grumbles, removing the navy knit cap from his head. He maneuvers it onto the head of their snowman, taking extra care not to bump his eyes.

Kate unwraps her dark plaid scarf from around her neck and loops it easily around his neck.

Castle frowns, gesturing to their creation. "Don't you think he's clashing a little bit?"

"No. Navy goes with almost everything. Including red and white and — why am I arguing with you about a snowman's accessories?"

He laughs. "Fine. But he needs a name."

"What about Derrick? You know, since you killed off the first one. Maybe he can live to see a new day as a snowman," she deadpans.

"Wow, you're _still_ not over that, are you?" he asks her, incredulous.

I just think he deserved better is all," she mumbles, pink staining her cheeks.

"Does it help that I've been thinking of resurrecting him? Faked his death sort of thing."

She frowns. "That sounds a little melodramatic, Castle."

"I'm sorry, have you met me?" he jokes.

She laughs. "Touche."

Castle takes another glance at their snowman. "Derrick looks pretty handsome, doesn't he?"

"He certainly does," Kate says warmly, snagging his attention once more. Her eyes are soft on his, brimming with love, he thinks, hopes, and - _oh_ , she's not talking about Derrick Storm.

Fuck. He loves her.

He closes the distance between them — nearly stumbles in the snow in his haste — and cups her cheeks in his encased hands.

"You know," he caresses the apples of her cheeks with his thumbs. "I think this is the best Christmas I've ever had."

"It's still two days away, Castle," but her smile tips up into her eyes as she says it.

"Doesn't matter," he breathes, fitting his lips snuggly against hers. She lets out a little sigh, her hands sliding up to his chest. He bites down on her lip, soothing the ache with his tongue. She moans, her hands latching onto the lapels of his coat.

"Is it time for bed yet?" she rasps.

"It's always time for bed," he growls, his mouth sliding against her cheek to tend to her neck.

" _Oh_ , Merry Christmas to me."

But then he gentles, pulling back to meet her shimmering gaze once more as he touches his forehead to hers.

"Merry Christmas, Kate."

"Merry Christmas, Rick."

* * *

 _I've written more (outside of my job) in the last 2.5 weeks writing this story than I have in the first 11 months of the year combined. Thank you for being a part of that._

 _As I previously said, I am still working on updating 'smoke' and potentially 'can't start a fire...' Also have a couple of other things in the works, so it won't be long until you hear from me again._

 _Thank you for reading!_


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